


Love And Dark Magic

by Hekate1308



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, M/M, Walter Moers inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6444064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knew of the magician's bad reputation. But he was going to starve if he didn't take the deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love And Dark Magic

**Author's Note:**

> One of my favourite books is “Der Schrecksenmeister” from Walter Moers (it’s a made up word btw, don’t worry, all those of you who are learning German). This is heavily inspired by the novel, although I took great liberties with the characters and plot.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

Everyone in the city blamed the Spellmaster for their illnesses and grievances. Cas knew it wasn’t true. It had always been a sick city, with the swamp slowly but surely closing in on it; but he would concede that the chemical fumes and the awful music that kept drifting down from the castle (mostly after midnight) were no help.

Of course, his health was not his biggest concern.

Not when he would soon be dead anyway.

The fire that had destroyed his house, the last thing he had left from his family, had taken his means of livelihood as well since his workshop had also been his living room: and in this city were everywhere was looking for a way to cure himself, no one had the time to be charitable.

And he simply lacked all ambition to become a thief.

He hadn’t eaten in a week. He hadn’t been able to find work, and he had been sleeping on the street.

He gave himself three more days, if he was lucky.

Castiel was huddled in a corner, watching the people stumble by with tired eyes when he heard it.

The quick, hard pace of someone who’d hammered iron on his shoe soles.

There was only one person in this city, probably this country, who would do something like that. The main road emptied, no matter that it was just the time of the day when people visited their doctor or apothecaries; Castiel tried to get up, found he couldn’t, and decided that he might as well wait and see if the Spellmaster was really as heartless and cruel as everyone said. If he decided to kill Castiel, at least it would be over quickly.

There was only one person in this city, probably this country, who would do something like that. The main road emptied, no matter that it was just the time of the day when people visited their doctor or apothecaries; Castiel tried to get up, found he couldn’t, and decided that he might as well wait and see if the Spellmaster was really as heartless and cruel as everyone said. If he decided to kill Castiel, at least it would be over quickly.

Dean walked through the town quickly, as usual. Of course now his stash of _ophiocordyceps sinensis_ had to run out. At least he wouldn’t have to pay for it. All these idiots were too afraid to even be in the same room as him. It was always a ghost town to him, wherever he went. Just how he liked it.

Except for today.  

Today, a man about his own age was sitting in a small gateway between two doctor offices. The dirty old coat he was wearing seemed too big for him, but that might just have been because he was so thin.

What struck Dean about him, however, were his eyes. Bluer than he had ever seen, and hopeless. So hopeless.

Man, did he know that feeling.

He shook himself out of it. This was no time for stuff like that. He was close to his goal – but he still needed –

In fact, why not use this chance? He’d always known that one ingredient of his formula would be incredibly hard to find.

This guy seemed to be on death’s door already anyway.

“What are you doing here?”

The guy made a pathetic attempt to stand up, sat back down and looked at him.

“I don’t have a home, sir.”

“What about family? No one to take you in?”

If he was surprised at his questions, he didn’t show. Maybe he was too weak.

“No, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir” he heard himself saying, to his own surprise. “Call me Dean.”

He hadn’t told anyone his name in... a long time. Not since...

No one here knew how he was called. And he was fine with “the Spellmaster”, really. It got him the respect he needed to work in peace.

Now, the man actually managed to stand up and said, completely serious, “Hello, Dean. I am Castiel.”

“Castiel. Interesting name.”

“My parents were –“Dean raised a hand to stop him from continuing. He was really not interested in his story, not when –

“Say, what if I offer you a place to stay? Plenty of room in my castle.”

Castiel stared at the man he had heard spoken of as the evil incarnate. He looked... far younger than he had thought. And there was no evil in these green eyes. Only... loneliness and pain.

“Why would you?” he asked, hoping against hope that Dean would prove a good man and was taking him in out of pity.  

“It would be less charity and more of a deal, really.”

Of course he wasn’t so lucky.

“What kind of deal?”

“It’s Walpurgis Night in a month” Dean told him.

“I know.” The night of the year the citizens of this world feared more than any other except Hallows Eve. The night old magic worked its power, the night everything was possible, good or bad.

“So, until then, you will be well cared for. You’ll have a soft bed to sleep in, and three meals every day. I’m a good cook.”

“And what happens at Walpurgis Night?”

“I kill you.”

Castiel took a step back.

“What?”

Suddenly the green eyes that had captivated him seemed empty, cold.

“You’ve probably heard all kinds of rumors as to what I’m working on. Well, you’ll hear all about that. Promise. I’ll conceal nothing from you. It will be the most interesting month of your life.”

“But why the last?” he inquired. Dean had to admit, the guy had spunk. A pity really, but he couldn’t help it. He needed a life.

“Thing is, what I’m trying to accomplish needs a sacrifice. A blood sacrifice. Human blood. Now obviously it can’t be myself.”

“Obviously."

“Yeah. So I need someone else to do it.”

“And you want me to be that someone.”

“Well” Dean said, stepping closer. “It’s much easier if you agree. Otherwise, I’d have to use other measures, and I don’t think they’d make me very popular.”

“You aren’t very popular right now” Castiel pointed out.

Dean chuckled. “I guess not. But, what do you say? It’s either my knife in a month, after being well cared for and fed, or it’s... about three days out here, I’d wager.”

Castiel thought about it. He was facing death either way; it only mattered when and how he died. He might die, but he would do so with a full stomach and quickly. He wouldn’t slowly starve to death on the streets. True, he was going to help Dean with whatever he was trying to accomplish, but after all he still had a choice if he found it was something dangerous. He could always die before Walpurgis Night.

“Alright” he agreed.Cold triumph flashed up in Dean’s eyes. He held out his hand.

“Shake on it.” Castiel grasped his hand weakly. A brief wave of pain rushed through him; he would have believed he was starting to die, only that it obviously came from Dean’s hand.

“What – “

“Contract spell. Had to be done. Wouldn’t want you to run away. It will only dissolve if we both want out of the contract” Dean explained casually.

“So. Can you make it up to the castle or do you need help?”

Cas stumbled against him, answering his question. He sighed.

“Alright, then. Just stay awake, I don’t want to carry – “

Cas had already fainted. “Great” he murmured as he caught him and held him against him, ignoring his heart beating faster. It had been so long since he had had another human being in his arms –

He frowned and carried him to the castle.

* * *

 

Castiel woke up in a soft bed for the first time in months. He was still feeling faint, no doubt from the lack of food, but he could sit up and look around him. He was in a comfortable, if plain room. When he looked out of his window, he saw the city and realized he was indeed in Dean’s dark and foreboding castle.

He hadn’t imagined that it would hold such a room. If anything, he would have expected to be kept in the dungeon.

Dean entered the room without knocking, a tray in his hand.

“Good. You’re awake. Just something light for now – toast; your stomach needs to get used to real food again.”

Castiel ate gratefully, if more slowly than he wished by Dean’s instructions.

“So. You wanna see my laboratory?”

Castiel soon found that Dean had, intentionally or not, put him in one of the few rooms that didn’t resemble a torture chamber. Stuffed, scary animals were everywhere, werewolves, chimaeras, sphinxes and God knew what else; Dean passed them by without a glance.

“Did you do this?” Castiel asked gently, pointing at a particularly gruesome night alp.

“Nah. One of the nut jobs that worked here before me must have brought them. You know about this place?”

Castiel hesitated.

“I know it was a prison for a while – for the criminally insane.”

“Until they slaughtered their guards and escaped” Dean added gleefully.

Castiel frowned.

“Then, there was this family of soldiers – “

“Degenerated half-bloods. Killed almost all the surrounding population.”

“And now there’s you.”                                             

Dean shrugged as they made their way past a pair of shackles that were wielded into the wall.

“Yeah, now there’s me. Figured this kind of building was best for my purpose. Lots of space, no one asking questions.”

“Are you really working on illnesses?” Castiel asked curiously. Dean stopped and turned around.

“Do you really believe that?”

Castiel shrugged. The Spellmaster sighed.

“Look, I just keep to myself. If these fools think it’s heavy to live next to a dirty swamp full of dangerous things, it’s not my fault.”

“Can’t you do anything about it?”

This time it was Dean who shrugged.

“Probably. But why should I?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do and you’re human too?”

Dean laughed bitterly. “It’s been a long time since I considered myself part of the human race.”

“But you are human.”

“And who cares about that? I’m the Spellmaster, the monster who haunts this castle. Not to forget, I’ll kill you in thirty days.”

Castiel flinched.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick.”

“Thank you” he answered, obviously surprising Dean.

“Yeah... anyway, here we are.”

The laboratory was a remarkable place, the kettle bubbling over the fire, herbs and chemicals everywhere. Dean reached out for a glass holding a dark liquid. He poured it down his throat, shuddering even as he did so.

“Well” he said then, and Cas didn’t like the change that came over him. Suddenly, he seemed much colder, much less human as he eyed the young man – almost as if he was already figuring out where to cut.

“What did you just drink?” he asked.

“Bat’s blood. Makes things easier.”

He chose not to comment.

“I promised I’d tell you what I’m doing here, so – “

He paused.

“My brother and my father are both dead” he finally admitted. “They died within a year of each other, almost a decade ago. Nearly too late, but not – “

“I’m sorry. That must have been difficult” Cas interrupted him, confusing the Spellmaster for a moment.

“Right. It was. But here is the thing: I can bring them back. I’m pretty sure. The last thing I need to do so is sacrifice a living soul on Walpurgis Night.”

“You want to bring them back from the dead?”

The man was mad. No question. What had Castiel done –

Dean laughed sharply.

“Think me mad. I don’t care. Point is, in a month I cut your throat, and they come back.”

“It’s a high price” Castiel replied. “At least it seems this way for me.”

“I’m sure it does” Dean answered carelessly.

“Now, I have stuff to do. You’re free to move in the castle. See you at lunch.”

Castiel understood he was dismissed.

* * *

 

The castle proved as vast and cold as it had always looked from town, but there were still a few human touches around the place that told him Dean hadn't yet fully lost all feeling.

A small library further down the hall from Cas' room was well-lit and warm, and when he opened the door next to it, he realized with surprise that he had found the Spellmaster's bedroom. He knew he shouldn't have been snooping - Dean certainly hadn't meant that he was free to go through his thigs - but he still stepped closer.

On the nightstand lay a hunting knife and a few books, but unlike those Cas had seen in the library.No, these seemed to be... instruction books of a sort. Law, by the looks of it.

He opened one.

 _Sam Winchester_ , it said in masculine handwriting on the first page.

He closed it. These must have belonged to Dean's brother, the one he was trying to bring back from the dead. If so, the knife had probably belonged to his father.How lonely must he be if he kept these things where he would see them as soon as he opened his eyes in the morning?

He couldn't resist the impulse to open the first drawer of the nightstand.Inside was a dagger, big and strangely looking. The looks of it alone filled Castiel with dread; he closed the drawer and left the room.

By lunch, he had read three books and was starving.

When he entered the laboratory, Dean actually gave him a small, pleased smile; he supposed the effects of the bat's blood must have worn off.

“Hope you like it”.

Castiel did, very much so.

“So, Cas” Dean began as they ate, “what were you doing on the streets anyway? You don’t look like a beggar.

He noticed the shortening of his name, but didn’t comment on it. After all, Dean owned his life now. He could call him however he wanted.

“I’m a woodworker, but my house and workshop burnt down.”

“Ah. I see. If you’d been a doctor, people would still have been running after your services, but I don’t think anyone’s wishing for a better dining table while they’re feeling miserable.”

“I hadn’t been doing well for some time” he admitted. After a pause, he asked, “What about you? Were you always a wizard? Even... before?”

Dean stopped chewing and looked out of the window, a forlorn expression on his face.

“No. Actually, I was pretty good at carriages. You know, keeping them in shape, even built a few. I was thinking about opening a shop, once Sam had figured out where to study law.”

So he had been right about the books. Dean bit his lip.

“Doesn’t matter. Stuff happened, and now I’m here.”

“And what are you going to do afterwards?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well after you – “ Cas swallowed. “Brought your family back?”

Dean blinked slowly.

“I never even thought of that. I just want them back.”

“Do you ever think” Cas said softly, “That some things are meant to be lost?”

After all, if his house hadn’t burnt down, he wouldn’t be sitting here, eating the best meal of his life with a beautiful man who unfortunately wanted to kill him.

Dean stood up abruptly, his face closed off.

“No. That’s what magic’s for”.

He grabbed their empty plates and left.

Cas sighed. It had been worth the try.

* * *

 

Now that he had remembered he was a woodworker, he realized that many shelves in both the library and laboratory were dreadfully out of order. He soon found enough timber in another room that must have been used as storage once to fix them, and so, when Dean told him after breakfast the next day he was busy, Cas got the wood.

Dean looked up when he entered the laboratory.

“What are you doing?”

“Working. Some of these shelves are about to collapse.”

“Really? You gonna fix them to make my work easier?”

Cas shrugged. “It’s what I do. I love fixing things that are broken.”

“Some things are far too broken” Dean said, weighing a green powder on a scale, “but good luck.”

“I’ll do my best” he answered. He didn’t see the strange look Dean threw him before concentrating back on the potion he was mixing.

It was only after Castiel had left hours later that he realized Dean hadn’t taken a single sip of bat’s blood while he’d been in the laboratory.

* * *

 

That evening, Dean unexpectedly joined him in the library.Cas would have supposed he wanted to continue working well through the night to ensure his demise.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

Cas raised the book.

“You’re reading Kilgore Trout?”

“He’s always been one of my favorites” Cas answered.

“Mine, too” Dean replied, surprised. How long had it been since he’d opened a book that wasn’t about blood and sacrifice anyway?

“Do you want me to read it to you?” Cas inquired. It was one of the weirdest requests he’d heard, but why not?

“Sure” he answered, and felt himself relax as the well-remembered words washed over him in Cas’ deep voice.

An hour later – he’d become last in the story, as he was wont to do – Cas looked up and found Dean asleep. He looked so unlike the Spellmaster the whole town was scared off, younger, peaceful.

Cas gently shook his shoulder until he was somewhat awake, then helped him into his room and his bed. Right after he had tugged him in, he couldn’t resist the urge to run his finger through his hair. He remembered what Dean had said about broken things in his laboratory.

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved” he whispered sadly before he left Dean to his hopefully pleasant dreams.

When Dean woke up, he was confused. Not only was he lying in his bed when he was used to wake up in his laboratory, more often than not having fallen off a chair, but he was tugged in. And he had slept well. He hadn’t done that in a long time.

He sat up and tried to forget some strange dream of Cas helping him into bed. He didn’t entirely succeed.

* * *

 

They developed a routine. Dean prepared their meals, which they then consumed together. Cas left him alone until lunch, but in the afternoon he’d more often than not return to the laboratory, where Dean would explain to him what he was doing.

Cas was constantly surprised at his vast knowledge of herbs and potions. Even without magic, he could easily have been a healer, a wise man, anything he chose to be, if he hadn’t been so desperate.

In the evenings, Dean always came to the library. Sometimes they read. More often, they talked.

“I was at the roof today” Cas started one of their usual conversations in the library.

“Oh?” Dean said. He had not been drinking bat’s blood, and while he looked softer, more human, he also looked more exhausted. It must have kept him awake for longer than strictly possible, Cas decided.

“It’s beautiful up there. You can see the whole city.”

“I’m not so good with heights” Dean mumbled. Cas shrugged.

“I just thought you might enjoy some air.”

Dean could definitely use it. And more sleep. And perhaps he should...

Cas buried himself in his book. He wasn’t concerned for the man who was going to kill him. He wasn’t.

But it became harder and harder to ignore the man behind the Spellmaster’s facade.

Another evening, Dean began, “I used to love cooking too, you know. For my family. But then I had no one to cook for, so...”

“Now I’m here” Cas said.             "

"Yeah” Dean breathed. “Yeah, you are.”

Cas tilted his head to his side as he usually did when he was thinking about something, and a warm glow he hadn’t believed himself capable of anymore settled behind Dean’s heart.

He stood up abruptly. This couldn’t continue.

“I’ll call it a night”.

He hurried out the room before Cas could say a word.

 _No more fraternizing with the sacrifice_ , he told himself.

It was only a week until Walpurgis anyway.

* * *

 

Tomorrow he would die.

He hadn’t seen Dean for more than a few minutes at a time in the last few days; he was very busy, only ever put his food in front of him before hurrying off, and he was drinking more and more of the bat’s blood, right when Cas had hoped...

He was sitting on the roof, looking over the town he had lived in all his life, before his gaze drifted off into the distance. What lay behind the mountains so far away? He had never asked, and now he would never know.

He was watching the sunset, well aware that he had less than thirty hours left.

“You were right. It’s really beautiful” Dean said tensely behind him and when Cas turned around, he saw the Spellmaster clutching at a wall behind him, grimacing at him. He probably thought he was smiling.

“Sit down. It should be easier.”

He nodded and slowly let himself glide to the ground next to Cas.

“Fresh air. Feels good.

”He hadn’t been drinking the blood for once, it seemed.

“How are you? You look tired.”

Dean laughed – actually laughed.

“Only you would ask that, one day before I...” he trailed off. Cas studied his profile.

_Get yourself together, Winchester. One more day. One more day and Dad and Sammy will be back, where they belong, and Cas... Cas isn’t important. Nope. Not at all._

Dean turned his head and caught Cas’ eyes.

Cas swallowed. He couldn’t breathe. His heart was hammering in his chest.

Slowly, carefully, he moved his hand so that it touched Dean’s.

Dean glanced at their hands before resuming to stare into Cas’ eyes. God, how long had it been since he had felt like this?

He didn’t think. He just moved.

Right before his lips touched Cas’, he came to his senses. What was he doing? He was going to cut the guy’s throat tomorrow. He couldn’t go around smooching him.

He needed bat’s blood. Now.

Dean jumped up an all but ran away. Cas didn’t realize how much he’d longed for the kiss until he realized how disappointed he was.

That was it, then. Dean wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t change his mind.

Cas sat on the roof until the sun had disappeared behind the mountains and it was too cold to stay.

* * *

 

Walpurgis Night arrived. The night Dean would break all laws, the night he would cross the threshold between the living and the dead.

The night he would kill Cas.

Right after sunset, a thunderstorm broke out.

How fitting.

Yet the young woodworker made his way to the laboratory. How easy it would have been to throw himself out of a window to save Dean’s soul; but he didn’t want to do it that way. He wanted Dean to choose, choose to do the right thing, choose life, choose

– Choose Cas.

When he entered the laboratory, his heart sank. Dean had obviously been drinking bat’s blood again, but yet he didn’t seem as aloof, as inhuman as usually when he did. His father’s knife and his brother’s favorite books were lying on the table. Next to them, the dagger was waiting for Cas.

He took a few steps towards Dean.

Dean had been waiting for Cas, hoping he wouldn’t have to drag him into the laboratory screaming. And he had come. Ready to die.

Why did it hurt looking into those blue eyes? Why did the bat’s blood not protect him from the fear he felt at the thought of Cas dying?

He couldn’t let him go, though. He was so close. He could save his father, Sammy... He only had to make this one sacrifice.

He grabbed the dagger and made his way to Cas. Why did he have to look at him? Everything would be easier if he didn’t have to look into these eyes.

“Close your eyes, Cas.”

He didn’t.

“I said – “

“Dean...” he said because he had to try, not only to save his life, but also the man he... loved. Yes, loved. Beneath the dark humor, the affected cruelty and the attitude, a good, honest man was buried, and Cas loved him.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“You don’t understand, Cas. I can bring them back.”

“But would they want you to? At this price? You turning into a monster – an unholy thing?”

Dean swallowed, a drop of sweat running down his forehead.

He thought of Dad. Of Sam. What would they say if they could see him now?And how would it feel to plunge the dagger into the throat of the man he...

The thunder howled, the rain beat against the windows.

Cas reached out to Dean, his hand shaking.

“I won’t stop you. Kill me if you want to. But I want you to know – there is another choice. But either way – I’m yours.”

Dean looked at him. Then at the dagger.

When his eyes met Cas’ again, the dagger fell down on the floor.

Their first kiss was shared with the kettle burbling behind them and the storm still trying to pull the castle apart.

* * *

 

They watched as the castle burned down to the ground.

“I suppose it’s for the best” Dean said slowly. “God knows enough bad stuff went down there. And the location spell will keep the fire on the castle grounds.”

Cas took his hand. “And tomorrow, the city will wake up and the swamp will be gone.”

Dean’s second-to-last spell, right before they set the fire and he used the location spell, had been to ensure that come sunset, the swamp that brought illness and misery would be replaced with fruit-bearing fields. The city would soon have a new life.

A life without Dean and Cas.  

Dean drew him into a gently kiss.

“I guess looking back – it’s so tempting ‘cause you know what happened. The future’s uncertain. I have no idea what’s coming now.”

Cas smiled and kissed him again.“Let’s find out”.

And together they left the city without looking back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As you might have guessed, the novel is not a love story; the Schrecksenmeister is the antagonist and the one he makes the deal with, the protagonist of the book, isn’t even human, he’s a crat (a cat that speaks all languages and has two livers and yes, that is how it’s spelled). Anyway, it’s awesome and in English it’s called The Alchemaster’s Apprentice. Just wanted to put that here.


End file.
